She'd Risked Everything, And Here Was The

The Sky Was Electric Blue Above The Trees But The Yard Felt Dark. Stephanie Went To The Edge Of The Lawn And Sat Her Forehead On Her Knees. The Grass And Soil Were Still Warm From The Day. She Wanted To Cry But She Couldn't. The Feeling Was Too Deep.

I Think The One Thing That's Changed Over Time Is That I've Come To Realise, As A Fiction Writer, The Fact That I Don't Think It Will Work Out, Doesn't Mean That It Actually Won't.

Like All Failed Experiments, That One Taught Me Something I Didn’t Expect: One Key Ingredient Of So-called Experience Is The Delusional Faith That It Is Unique And Special, That Those Included In It Are Privileged And Those Excluded From It Are Missing Out.

She Was Clean": No Piercings, Tattoos, Or Scarifications. All The Kids Were Now. And Who Could Blame Them, Alex Thought, After Watching Three Generations Of Flaccid Tattoos Droop Like Moth-eaten Upholstery Over Poorly Stuffed Biceps And Saggy Asses?

I Wonder What Proust Would Have Made Of Our Present-day Locus Of Collective Fantasy, The Internet. I’m Guessing He Would Have Seized On Its Wistful Aspect, Pointing Out Gently And With Wry Humor That Much Of What Beguiles Us Is The Act Of Reaching For What Isn’t There.